


The Night Becomes You

by eatjamfast



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fem Jack, fem pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatjamfast/pseuds/eatjamfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing in the world Pitch Black hated more than a show off.  And if there was anyone who effortlessly embodied all of the things she hated, it was Jack Frost, even if she did look exceptionally hot in that rehearsal gear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Becomes You

**Author's Note:**

> lesbian blackice, it needed to be done at some point I suppose.

There was nothing in the world Pitch Black hated more than a show off.  For as long as she could remember she’d harboured a hatred for those who decided it was their birth right to showboat at every given opportunity.

And if there was anyone who effortlessly embodied all of these things, it was _Jack Frost_.

The circus newbie had somehow managed to wrap every single circus member around her finger in less than three months.  She had a shameless swagger about her, and any chance she had to be a cocky brat she would take. This also included sweet-talking the circus master, Nicolas, into letting her share a spot in _Pitch’s_ opening act.

Pitch had known it was coming – Jack had been dropping sly comments about her little show-thieving plans for some time now so it really didn’t come as a surprise when Sanderson had rocked up to her tent the other night with a letter proclaiming she and Jack would be rehearsing as a double act.

She had raged and threatened and even thrown a couple of satisfyingly well-landed punches in her anger. Pitch had been the circus’ primary act for the past five years, and hadn’t taken well to the news of having to share her spotlight with some bratty newcomer.

Even if said newcomer did look particularly delightful in her dress rehearsal gear that evening.

An outrageously short white dress embroidered with sky-blue crystals draped Jack’s petite body;  the nails of her bare feet  had been painted a sparking white in-keeping with the rest of her costume’s colour scheme. Her bright bleached hair, which had been cropped into a flattering pixie cut, was littered with little blue crystal snowflakes.

The whole ensemble was gaudy and garish and so frustratingly _hot_.

Jack riled Pitch up in a way she never knew anyone could. Not that she would _tell_ anyone that, because as far as the rest of the circus staff were concerned, Pitch and Jack were the camp’s resident mortal enemies.

“C’mon, Twinkle Toes, we have a show to rehearse!” Jack’s voice had a playful lilt to it as she let frost spin from her wiggling fingertips into the air around her, forming a shimmering mist which made her look more angelic than she had any right to.

Pitch grumbled under her breath, but strode gracefully across the stage nonetheless and took her stance; she was stood opposite Jack, her arms outstretched towards her as she prepared to take the brunt of Jack’s ice.

Without a single word of warning, a jagged shard of the stuff spilled forth from Jack’s palms and straight toward Pitch; taking her partner’s attitude in her stride, Pitch side-stepped the giant icicle with ease before sending a rush of shadows towards it, infusing her darkness with the clear hunk of ice.

The finished product fell to the floor before either of them could use their magic to prevent it, and shards of black ice flew in all directions. Pitch didn’t even have time to blink before Jack used her affinity with the local winds to shoot towards Pitch and shove her off the stage. Hard.

A quiet settled over the tent, and spectators vacated the premises hurriedly when they realised what was going on. Mishaps often happened during rehearsals, usually when Pitch and Jack were practicing. Their fellow performers didn’t tend to stick around for the yelling match which happened afterwards.

“WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU PLAYING AT?!” Pitch howled, leaping to her feat.

“What was _I_ playing at?” Jack shouted back, incredulous. “We already said you were going to catch it!”

“Oh, _really_? Do you know, I can’t recall you even letting me know you were going to be shooting an oversized icicle at my _face_!” Pitch snarled in response, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She could feel her shadows writhe restlessly around her, pulsing excitedly at the change in atmosphere.

Jack glanced at them warily before setting her jaw and glaring at Pitch defiantly, “It’s not like I can ask you if you’re ready in the actual thing, is it?”

“No, _Jacqueline,_ you can’t! But you’ve failed to acknowledge that the ‘ _real thing_ ’ is in three weeks! We have time to practice both with and without queues!” Pitch said, squaring her shoulders and using her height to cast a shadow over Jack’s face. A tiny flicker of fear danced through Jack’s eyes, and Pitch drank it up, suppressing the shiver that ran up her spine at the thought that if she just tilted her head down a couple of inches then their lips would be only millimetres apart…

Jack’s electric gaze jumped from Pitch’s eyes to her lips, visibly weighing her options. With a cocky twist of a smirk, she pulled back from Pitch, her eyes alight with mischief.

“Well, I think that’s enough of that for now,” she drawled, spinning up onto a nearby breeze with effortless athleticism. The skirt of her dress rode up around the tops of her thighs as she bent her knees and hung in the air, looking as fey and wild as she ever had.

“You can’t just leave every time something goes wrong, Jack.” Pitch pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger tiredly, shaking her head.

“Yes I can, but that’s besides the point. You’re tired and I’m _starving_ so we can just reconvene later or whatever,” Jack shrugged with a noncommittal wave her hand.

Pitch opened her mouth to protest, but before she could Jack had already danced away in the opposite direction, leaving a light train of snowflakes in her wake. Pitch made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat before turning on her heel sharply and exiting the tent, snarling at the stagehand who was idiotic enough to be standing in her way.

It was at that moment, Pitch decided, that if there had to be one thing she despised more than a show-off, it would have to be a _tease_.

*

Over three hours had passed before Pitch managed to find Jack, who was lurking around behind the kitchen tents, reaching in occasionally and pilfering freshly baked bread rolls.

Pitch leaned against a nearby barrel and watched her partner curiously, her thin lips quirking up into a rare smile when Jack finally got caught by Mr Bennett, the head chef. He snatched up her wrist as it slid in the tent flap and threw her out with such force that she would have skid along the floor and dirtied her pristine dress if it were not for her affinity with the wind, which scooped her up mid-fall and suspended her in the air.

“If you carry on the way you are, I might have to put in a request for you to be pulled out of the show for delinquency,” Pitch said drily, her golden gaze rested on Jack with a heavy sensuality she didn’t bother to hide. Jack probably knew of Pitch’s affections towards her by now, even if they were heavily laced with irritation and dislike.

“Aw, you’re not still mad are you?” Jack grinned widely, lowering herself onto the muddy grass.

Pitch shook her head, “I’m not. But I would like to try and practice again, if you wouldn’t mind. I really wouldn’t like our act to be the reason people demand refunds on opening night.”

Jack chuckled and nodded, snatching up one of the apples which filled the barrel by Pitch’s hip, very deliberately letting her fingers skim across the thin fabric covering Pitch’s skin. Pitch blinked slowly, keeping a tight rein on her control as she watched Jack bite into the apple, frost ferns spiralling out across the rosy skin from where her delicate fingers rested.

Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Jack started walking back towards the rehearsal tent, throwing a knowing smile over her shoulder at Pitch.

 _Just you wait,_ Pitch snarled mentally, _a time will come when I’ve fucked you so hard you’ll feel it for days._

Following after her partner, Pitch strode purposefully into the tent so wasted no time in taking her place on the stage.

“I think maybe we shouldn’t start with the icicle for warm ups this time?” Jack floated past Pitch’s head before settling herself down opposite Pitch, a good few metres away. “Do we have any easier tricks?”

Pitch pursed her lips thoughtfully, shoving aside her surprise at Jack’s sudden improvement in working ethics. She lifted her hand, and let shadows spill out of her fingertips in lazy spirals.

“Maybe we could start out the _actual_ show with something less dramatic – ”

“You want to change the show?” Jack frowned, folding her arms.

“Only slightly. I just think using the shadow-infused ice as an opening performance is too big. Don’t want to peak too early. We should start out with something simple,” Pitch explained.

“Like what?”

“You could make some ice sculptures, while I do the same but with shadows,” Pitch offered.

“But, Pitch, that’s baby stuff – people come to our shows to be shocked… not, you know, be mildly amazed.”

Pitch rolled her eyes, “well then, I don’t suppose you’ve any better ideas?”

Jack’s face scrunched up as she considered her ideas, before she nodded.

“Let’s do the sculptures – but, maybe, like, we could make them dance or something from the wings before coming onto the stage ourselves?” Jack offered with a shrug.

“I think it could work if we managed to get the figures looking realistic enough,” Pitch nodded, using more shadows to shape them into a model of herself.

From there on out, Jack seemed considerably more invested in their act – unusually so. Pitch didn’t take it for granted, and used up the strange spike in Jack’s enthusiasm to her advantage and put their combined energies towards creating a better performance.

Hours flew by as though they were only seconds, and by the time they both felt it was appropriate to take a break, they realised they’d run late into the night and peered out of the rehearsal tent’s doorway to find the entire camp to be silent and dark.

Slinking back into the tent, Pitch slumped down onto a nearby chair tiredly, wiping at the thin sheen of sweat coating her shoulders. She looked up as Jack took the seat next to her, smiling.

“You’ve done well today,” she said, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder proudly. Jack looked at her seriously with lidded eyes, her blue eyes bright with something that sent Pitch’s stomach off in knots.

“You think?” Jack asked, “I’d probably say I _always_ do well.”

“Hm,” came Pitch’s scathing reply. She risked another look at Jack, who was staring at her. Straightening her shoulders, she hitched her brow and looked down at her haughtily, “And just what are you staring at?”

A light flush hit Jack’s cheeks and she bit her lip, “What do you _think_ I’m looking at?”

“I’m afraid I’m not a mind reader… you’ll have to spell it out for me,” Pitch replied, and quicker than she had time to blink, Jack had flipped out of her own chair and onto Pitch’s lap – her slim, pale thighs spread around Pitch’s hips.

Pitch’s gaze flicked up to meet Jack’s and she grinned widely before sliding a graceful hand to the back of Jack’s neck, yanking her forward into a kiss. There was no hesitation in the way Jack’s mouth opened under Pitch’s, and that sent shivers up her spine and held back her own groan as she slipped her tongue into Jack’s mouth.

Jack didn’t bother to censor the low whine which worked its way out of her throat as Pitch fucked her tongue into her mouth, letting her free hand dance on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Jack shifted restlessly in Pitch’s lap, the spacious chairs the circus insisted on using giving her room to squirm.

Pitch broke away from Jack’s mouth so she could duck down and suck harshly at the milky white skin at the side of Jack’s neck, delighting in the choked moan she got in response, humming back in approval as Jack raked her nails down Pitch’s back brutally.

Taking pity on her, Pitch shifted so she could press one of her thighs up between Jack’s legs, letting her grind down as Pitch pulled her back in, kissing her hard and propriety, nipping at her tongue and lips as she let Jack’s hips find their rhythm.

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” Jack gasped sharply, swivelling her hips harder and faster down onto Pitch’s thigh, a deep red flush hitting her cheeks. “Pitch, oh – _fuck_ , please, please!”

“Please, _what_?” Pitch murmured against her mouth, swiping her tongue across the inside of her upper lip.

“Fuck me, just fucking – anything, _anything_ , just _please_ ,” Jack panted, shaking her head in need, pushing her tongue restlessly against Pitch’s.

Pitch didn’t need to be told twice – she pushed Jack off of her gently and stood up, before easing them both to the ground, gripping at Jack’s thighs tightly. Jack’s arms twined around Pitch’s neck and she pulled her back down into a kiss, letting Pitch take control of their intimacy.

“I want to take off your dress,” Pitch said, “I want you naked.”

Jack groaned shortly, nodding quickly as she sat up, lifting her dress over her head eagerly so she was knelt in front of Pitch in just her undergarments – a simple, yet beautiful, pale blue set to go under her show clothes. Pitch smirked when she looked down, and saw the wetness which had soaked through the fabric.

“Pitch!” Jack said, reaching around so she could undo her bra, “hurry the fuck up.”

“My, my, my. You’re awfully demanding,” Pitch purred, splaying her palm against Jack’s tense abdomen as she yanked off her bra, her breasts swelling under the force of her breathing. Letting her clever fingers drift up to Jack’s nipples, she rolled them between her fingers hard, grinning when Jack’s breath fell out of her throat on sharp, high notes.

After a few long, torturous minutes of playing with Jack’s painfully hard nipples, Pitch carefully pulled down Jack’s underwear to her knees, encouraging her to kneel above her legs. She let her fingers glide over her, marvelling at how wet she was for her.

“Are you gonna do this, or what?” Jack managed, attempting to regain some of her usual cocky demeanour.

Surging forwards, Pitch pressed her lips against Jack’s as she pressed up and into Jack with two fingers, the slick wetness allowing for her entry far more easily than she could have ever anticipated and Jack cried out loudly, scrabbling at Pitch’s shoulders for some kind of leverage as Pitch began to thrust her fingers into her hard, crooking them to hit her just right so a high moan rushed out of her.

“More, fuck, Pitch – more,” Jack begged, rolling her head against Pitch’s shoulder and Pitch pulled out slowly only to thrust into her hard again with three fingers, letting her thumb brush against the hardness of her clit on every push back in.

Pitch pounded her fingers into Jack, who ground her hips down onto them every so often and Pitch knew she was close, so close. Ducking down, she flicked her tongue out against one of Jack’s nipples before clamping down mercilessly with her teeth, rolling her tongue over it.

Jack’s voice cracked on a whine which bordered on a wail as her orgasm surged through her, Pitch felt her tense and twitch as she fucked her through it, hitting her clit until Jack reprimanded her for it in her oversensitivity.

Letting her fingers slip out of Jack, Pitch held her close as she went boneless in the aftermath, her breathing coming out in short, harsh pants.

It took a few minutes for Jack to come down, and Pitch was achingly aware of the throbbing heat between her own legs, praying that Jack brought her off soon – because if she didn’t, she thought she might actually go crazy.

Jack pulled away from Pitch with a lazy grin, cocking one of her brows, looking debauched but confident nonetheless. She rested her hands on Pitch’s shoulders and pushed her down gently, so she was lying on her back.

Pitch spread her legs automatically, and Jack settled between them, wasting no time as she yanked down Pitch’s riding slacks, pulling her underwear down with them and grinning widely when Pitch shifted in anticipation.

“You know,” Jack said as she crouched down between Pitch’s thighs, “I see you walking around in these tight-ass slacks all day and all I can think about is how much I want to get them the fuck off of you.”

“Well you’ve managed to do it now, so get on with it,” Pitch growled, letting her fingers slide into Jack’s hair and tug on the strands impatiently.

“ _Now_ who’s demanding…” Jack muttered, but stroked the insides of Pitch’s thighs teasingly as she pushed them further apart so Pitch could feel more of a strain on her muscles.

The first swipe of Jack’s tongue against her clit was perfect, and Pitch groaned, her hands tightening in Jack’s hair. But then Jack pushed one of her fingers inside her as she began swirling her tongue around the clit and Pitch knew she wasn’t going to last – especially when Jack began pumping that one finger in and out with a steady beat, not too fast but not too slow.

Her tongue was wily and her fingers clever as they worked Pitch relentlessly, not slowing down, not pausing and Pitch started to voice her desire more when she felt the familiar warmth settle in her belly, and she curled her toes, legs spasming as she came with a hoarse cry, her fingers twisted too hard in Jack’s hair but she didn’t seem to care, and continued to keep that steady pace as Pitch came down.

Pitch pulled her up, so sensitive to Jack’s tongue against her clit it was almost painful. Jack crawled up Pitch’s body, which was lax and exhausted, and straddled her legs over her hips, resting her head in the crook between Pitch’ neck and shoulder.

“Remind me why we didn’t do that earlier?” Jack asked breathlessly, her fingers sought out the long, curling strands of Pitch’s hair and she plaited them absently.

“Because you’re an insufferable little brat who always had something else better to do,” Pitch replied tiredly, running her hands up and down Jack’s back affectionately.

“Ah, yes. That might be why. But you gotta admit – it was worth the wait.”

Pitch hummed in amused agreement, “Definitely. Although, I hope you won’t make me wait again.”

Jack hesitated before Pitch felt her smile, “Of course not. I’m not giving great sex like this up ever again. You’re stuck with me now.”

“My sentiment exactly,” Pitch replied, smiling softly.


End file.
